1. I really, really hate broccoli. I’d forgotten how much I hate it because the only time I’ll ever eat it is if some sort of insanely spicy sauce is involved to cover up the taste. On Saturday, I was reminded. The CFO’s mom made us chef salads for lunch when we were paying them a visit. I unthinkingly took a bite of raw broccoli. I tried with all my might to force it down, but I literally gagged. The CFO thought I was going to throw up. For a brief moment I thought so too. I was able to pull myself together, and played it off that “something had gone down the wrong pipe.” I’m not sure anyone bought it, but it was better than saying “the lunch you prepared almost made me barf.”
2. The stupid University of Washington had it’s stupid commencement on stupid Saturday, at the same time I was (quite stupidly) trying to get to the CFO’s parents house in the same area of Seattle. Gridlock!
3. There was a beggar at the freeway exit on Friday afternoon. On Saturday afternoon at the same exit he was nowhere to be found. Taking the weekend off I guess.
4. I have a Spyderco pocketknife that I love, very similar to the one pictured above. (I call him Mr. Stabby. I have another knife called The Pimpsticker. More about him later perhaps) I was relating the story of how I acquired Mr. Stabby to the CSO: I was fishing in the Tolt River, just outside of Carnation, when a glint of metal caught my eye. I reached down into the river, and there he was, my own personal Excalibur. I mentioned that some other fisherman must have dropped him, but the CSO then brought up an interesting point, namely, that when she needs to dispose of a piece of evidence throwing it into a river is her go-to method. I need to do some research and see if anyone was knifed in Carnation in June of 1994.
5. Everyone on the road is an idiot but me. Several times this weekend I saved people from their own idiocy, like the jackass who I just knew was going to ignore the yield sign in his lane, so I pretended I had one in mine. Had I not we would have collided at about 50 mph, and I’d be explaining to some grieving widow how her beloveds last moment on earth was marked by a tremendous level of stupidity. Then there was the guy by the UW that did a U-turn directly across my lane, and whose life was saved only by the CEO’s cat-like reflexes on the brakes. If I had been driving my old car, the one with the, ah, adventurous braking system, I don’t think he lives.
